#mobiusff

Red, cat-like ears twitched as they picked up the sound of clanking metal and heavy, snarling breathing.

G’raha Tia turned his head, tracking the sound. It echoed amongst the quiet, near-dead trees of what used to be the Twelveswood, bouncing off rotted wooden buildings that marked the ruins of abandoned Gridania. Or, near enough — what few surviving poachers there were had moved into the buildings the Seedseer and her people had vacated, and with the elementals long silent, no one could argue or complain about the new situation.

The tension of the silent city only seemed to increase with each clanking step G’raha heard.

“Biggs, what—”

The Ironworks engineer with him grabbed G’raha by the back of his shirt and pulled him back into a nearby alley. Before G’raha’s yelp could fully form, a large hand clapped over the miqo’te’s mouth.

“Shhh,” the roegadyn hissed into his ear. “That monster’s comin’ down the street. Just stay still, stay quiet, and whatever you do, don’t run.”

An alarming warning, considering they’d managed to parley with the poachers not but five minutes ago for access to what few records remained after Black Rose had killed all in range.

And also considering what Biggs III had warned him of before they’d set foot in the remains of the Twelveswood.

“There’s a monster shaped like a man that prowls the Ghimlyt Dark. Makes it hell for anyone tryin’ to scavenge for parts from Garlean magitek. Rumor is he’ll snuff the life of anyone who crosses his path just by looking at you….and his territory’s been getting bigger with each passing year. We’ve yet to figure out why, but we know that if he doesn’t see you, he doesn’t kill you. Considerin’ the rumors of who he used to be, that’s a mercy.”

G’raha kept his ears up, tracking the sound. It was definitely closer now. He kept his breathing even and calm, trying to remember what it had felt like in the World of Darkness, and how he’d managed to keep his composure then.

What he wouldn’t give to have Wol by his side now, of all times….

The clanking was suddenly loud enough that G’raha’s ears flinched back at the sound. A large shadow fell across the dirt road in front of them. Two sets of horns, one set significantly longer than the other. A large, bat-like shape of wings.

And then the figure moved past the opening in the alley, and G’raha felt himself freeze.

The figure looked more voidsent than man. Deep black armor with gold trim covered the body from the neck down. A glowing purple crystal embedded in the chest seemed to pulse with a light of its own; between that, the clawed gauntlets, and the taloned boots, figure’s appearance was already significantly less friendly.

Adding in the figure’s choice of head protection and the cloak on his back only made his appearance more monstrous. A white helm with a carved, scowling face, with no sign of a release lock to allow the helm to be removed. A pair of demonic horns rose from the forehead, just above the eyes, and another pair stretched out on either side like winged ears. The bat-shaped cloak stretched out behind the figure almost looked like proper wings.

The figure — the monster — the fiend — walked past the alley with slow purpose, growling with each breath taken.

The tension in the air from being this close had G’raha’s heart quickening in instinctive panic.. What manner of voidsent was this? The last time he had felt this way was when he and Wol had faced down the Cloud of Darkness together, in an attempt to rescue those lost to the void from her clutches. Had a rift opened at Ghimlyt Dark? But that couldn’t be possible, the aether had become too stale, too still.

Unless…

G’raha waited until Biggs’ hand relaxed as the man in monster form moved past them. Then he tore himself away from the roegadyn and ran out in the street.

“Wait, you—”

“Wol, is that you?!”

The monster stopped, back still turned. It gave G’raha a good, long look at the white symbol on the armored man’s back. A symbol flipped from what G’raha had seen once before.

A sword, pointing down, framed on either side by thorn-like runic lines that ran past the sword’s blade.

More confirmation than anything else, and it caused dread to form in the miqo’te’s heart.

Biggs started whispering what sounded like a prayer from the alley.

The armored man did not move. His head turned slightly, but G’raha did not see the carved, scowling face on the helm.

“There is no Wol. There is only Archfiend.”

The words were articulated enough to be understood, but the heavy growl that came with them made G’raha’s heart want to skip from terror. His legs trembled at the thought of running, getting away from whatever was now inhabiting the armor.

But if there was a chance his friend was still alive, was still here—

“But you are the same man I met at the Crystal Tower,” G’raha said. “Before I sealed it and myself in slumber.” He paused. “Or…a part of him, at least. Am I wrong?”

Something in his words made Archfiend turn fully, taloned boots digging into the earth and leaving gouges behind. Red light glimmered from the scowling eyes carved into the helm as the head tilted slightly to stare at G’raha.

His tail fluffed up immediately at the eye contact. It felt like a predator assessing prey, considering whether or not they were worthy of being hunted or considered too weak or useless to be consumed. G’raha fought his instinct to look away, to turn tail and hide. His hand trembled at his sides, caught between breaking Archfiend’s gaze with him or grabbing the bow from his back.

“…you hope he’s still here,” Archfiend said slowly. The growl in his voice made him hard to read. Was he threatening? Amused? “A familiar face, after so long.”

“A-among other things, yes.” If Archfiend was willing to talk, then G’raha was going to take his chance. “What happened that caused…this? I’m…told you stayed in Ghimlyt Dark?”

The low snarl that ripped from Archfiend made G’raha’s tail stand straight up against his back.

“Black Rose killed the others. No one lives. No one. I bring despair to those who are to blame.”

Despair…where had he heard that? Did Wol or one of his allies mention that?

“Centuries after the event?” G’raha asked.

“Yes.” That sounded more like a hiss. “Where despair exists, so do I. Where hope exists, I am drawn to destroy.”

…if this was what was left of his friend, it carried terrifying implications. Had this always lurked in Wol’s heart? Did he transform himself into a voidsent in order to bring about this result?

There had to be some way to get through to him. There had to be.

“Even the smallest hint of hope can lie in the deepest despair,” G’raha said. “Why else drive yourself to continue doing this? You could be helping the city-states pull themselves back together, or—”

“Despair is all that remains in this flesh.”

G’raha felt the words die in his throat.

Archfiend gave him another, long look, tilting his head forward like he was considering something. “Your hope is not strong enough to be satisfying to snuff out. Your companion’s hope wavers far more.”

Biggs let out a strained yelp from the alley.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you for disturbing my hunt.”

Archfiend slowly raised his right arm, hand gripping the air.

“We aim to stop the Eighth Umbral Calamity from happening in the first place. They are looking to send me with the Crystal Tower back in time, and stop the Rejoining from ever occurring.”

The words came out of G’raha quickly, and it was enough to cause Biggs to look out and mime a cut-off sign over his throat.

Archfiend paused. The shape of what seemed to be a blade formed into an 8 — or possibly an infinity symbol — shimmered in the air, half-summoned.

“To that end, they are looking for a specific point in time to send me back, to prevent the event on our world from happening and to prevent the reflection from collapsing to be rejoined,” G’raha continued. “I have faith it will be done, but…but we need more data. A date to focus on. Data to create the devices we need.” He motioned to Archfiend. “You — even if you are no longer him — carry at least some of that knowledge within you. So, please—”

“If you do this, will this place cease to exist?”

The question made G’raha pause. He blinked, then glanced at Biggs. “Well, it’s…certainly a possibility….”

Biggs stiffened as Archfiend turned to look at him. “Th-there’s no guarantee if we’ll continue to exist or if our time’ll change as a result of our s-sending G’raha back to the First. Y-ya might still be here, but…”

Archfiend stared at Biggs. When the roegadyn pulled himself deeper into the alley, he slowly turned to look at G’raha again.

A rush of dark purple energy that did not feel like the void overtook Archfiend’s head, horns and all, and when it vanished, so too did the helm.

G’raha’s breath caught when he saw the white-haired head of the man he’d known before he’d sealed the tower.

Except that when Archfiend — Wol — opened his eyes, they were not the pale hazel G’raha remembered. They were a deep, scarlet red, with no pupil to be seen, and glowed with an internal power than the Allagan Eye could not hope to match.

“You carry a lot of hope for something that may not work,” Archfiend said. His face remained flat, like he’d forgotten how expressions worked. “And you come to one who is despair incarnate for help.”

“If nothing else, it will give you access to our research, if you seek someone to blame,” G’raha said. “There is some speculation that Ascians were involved in manipulating the Garleans. I’m…certain you would like a narrowed focus to more specific names?”

Biggs came out of the alley again, shaking his head rapidly.

Archfiend grinned. The sharp teeth of a predator, and not a hyur, stretched his jaw beyond what it was meant for. “A good bargain. You have my interest, G’raha Tia. You had better hope it remains as it currently is.”